I share this story because this is why I have a blog. I debated whether to come clean for quite a bit this morning, and decided not to edit myself.

My daughter’s first day of school is tomorrow, but she’s in this peer leader program and had to go in today to welcome the incoming Freshman. Because we live in a different town then her high school, bus service was not available today and I had to drop her off at 7am.

On my way back I noticed a ton of buses from our school district all over our neighborhood. Hmm…I thought. School starts tomorrow, why are buses running today? As I turned onto our street I noticed a bunch of middle schoolers at the corner. They usually get picked up an hour before my son gets picked up.

My stomach turned a bit. Beads of sweat started to form. No. Today is Tuesday. School starts tomorrow. Right? Why didn’t I bring my phone with me? No biggie. I know I’m right.

I got home and ran into the kitchen – yep, the calendar says school starts on the 28th. Wednesday. Tomorrow. I grabbed my phone and checked the date. Gulp. Everyone in the neighborhood was right. Today was Wednesday.

I ran upstairs like a lunatic and woke my son up.

“School starts today!! Today! Today! Wake up! Brush your teeth!”

My husband casually walked in my son’s room, I shouted some obscenities, and he walked out.

I frantically pulled the tags off all the clothes and ran downstairs. We’d ordered his backpack in July and I’d stuffed it in a closet. Somewhere. I remember feeling so organized when it came in the mail. Like one of those people who buys Christmas presents in the summer. Found it!

That relief was quickly gone when I realized the bag was empty. I never bought the supplies.

Why? Because it was 5 silly little things that I thought I’d pick up at the last-minute.

I grabbed my wallet and headed to CVS.

I love CVS. I owe CVS a debt of gratitude and appreciation.

I grabbed Expo markers, red/green/blue/yellow plastic (not laminated) folders, composition books, pencils, zippered pencil-case – and milk for cereal. I would have grabbed Xanax if it was OTC.

Two years ago my husband found an old-school, Russian piano teacher. He did this how he does everything. Complete tunnel vision until objective is achieved. There’s no giving up in parenting! The first year was a comedy of errors full of Three’s Company type of misunderstandings due to her very thick accent (which my son calls her volume). I’d sit in the other room and hear a lot of, “Svweetee..vould you try zat again?” “what? oh. try it again? ok.” …..”zank you” “what? oh. you’re welcome”. She’s like the nicer, gentler, Natasha from Rocky and Bullwinkle.

It’s gotten better. But every summer we take a couple of months off. To give the kids a break. To give Tatyana a break. And let’s be honest, to give me a break. But summer is officially over when she walks in at 6pm on a Tuesday night. Homework, projects, parent-teacher meetings all follow quickly after.

I snuck in the room tonight and recorded the below. This is what I will hear from 6pm to 7pm every Tuesday until next June. Help me.

I’m always on the hunt for a good, peel-the-gook-out-your-face mask. And clay is all the rage right now. After reading all 2,113 reviews on Amazon, I decided it was the one for me. And I was right. It’s dries to a crisp and makes me feel squeaky clean. Try it. Or don’t.

Clinique has always made the best moisturizers – although they are boring as hell. This one is no different. It goes on like butta, soaks in quickly and disappears. After a summer full of coconut and lime and almond smelling products, it’s nice to put something on that smells like nothing.

One more from Clinique. This one is an oldie. But I’ve been too busy wearing a dark, chocolate stain and didn’t know everyone was addicted to this. This is an almost gloss/almost lipstick combo in their most “wearable” shade – Black Honey. When you see it in the tube, you’ll be horrified. It’s as dark and deep as a raisin, but it goes on sheer and light. Some gloss is a little too…..glossy. Ya know? Not this. This is a little bit of sheen and color that doesn’t make me feel like Krystal Carrington (anyone? anyone?).

Now this last bottle is a little controversial. Many of my gal pals have voiced their confusion and anger about applying a straight on oil to their skin. This particular one by Josie Maran is oil for your face, hair and skin. An all over oil. I bought the light version because the regular was out of stock and I needed it asap. Like an addict. It was worth it. Is it great for your nice, cotton pillow cases? Not so much. But you’ll be glowing in the morning.

So these are my new boyfriends. My new mistresses. My new loves. They’ll be doing the walk of shame come October but I love them today.

It’s been a busy week and I have had no time/energy/ambition to post. I’ve spent a large chunk of time in my car commuting back and forth for work – in fact I’ll be on the road again today!

I usually listen to Howard Stern in my car. If he’s on repeats I listen to CNN or NPR. If nothing’s happening there, I listen to 1010 WINS (those of you in the NY Tri-State area will know what this is. AM radio at it’s best). When I’m tired of hearing about the traffic on the GWB I give in and switch to a music station. Music isn’t always my go-to (my daughter and husband are screaming at the screen right now) – sorry.

During one of those music moments this week I heard Lady Gaga’s new song, Applause...

I’m not crazy about it. You know why? It sounds an awful lot like another song. A song by one of my horrible reality show Housewives. Last year, in the New Jersey edition, Melissa Gorga came out with this hot mess called On Display...

Growing up, in my very Indian family, the only “American” food that was cooked in our house was spaghetti (which was strangely made on Saturday mornings) and a dish that we called – eggplant. No, not eggplant parm. I didn’t know what parmesan cheese was until my first year in college (also never had cream cheese, sour cream or mustard until then). This is an entirely different thing. A bastardized version of caponata. I’m pretty sure my mother has never heard/seen/eaten anything called caponata.

I don’t know who came up with the recipe. I’m not sure how it all got started – but I do know that in my family and in my cousin’s families – this is what you get when they say,”we’re having eggplant for dinner”.

I make it now for my little tribe too. I’ve changed a few details. All the veggies in this dish were fried when my mom made it (and still makes it). I don’t fry anything – not because I’m so super healthy – but because I’m really bad at frying. Things burn. Stoves are covered in oil. I stink like burnt oil for hours – it’s not good. So I do a little saute/steam method. It works. I still use a bit of oil – but I use olive oil instead of the corn oil my mom uses to this day. I tried to talk her into canola once but it was a lost cause. Who am I to judge?

Here’s all you need. Please note: do not buy expensive sauce or make your own marinara or something. You need Ragu. Or some other cheap jarred sauce. Trust me. And don’t go trying to add fresh basil – hold yourself back. Pretend like this is the 80s and we haven’t all been watching The Food Network obsessively.

First chop up your very pretty peppers and onion in a hearty julienne and throw them into a non-stick pan with about a tablespoon of oil. Cover and saute/steam for about 10 minutes until both are cooked through and soft.

While the onions and peppers do their thing, cut the eggplant(s) in half and then in thick slices. Then think about the fact that literally nothing on earth smells better than onions and peppers cooking. I hear you all screaming at the computer now,”bacon does!”, “cookies baking do!”, “a baby’s head smells better!”. Calm down.

Once the onions and peppers are done, pour them into a medium-sized pan. Add another tablespoon of oil, cover and cook the eggplant. I like to do this in batches. In the end you’ll use 2 to 3 tablespoons of oil to cook all the eggplant.

I’ve tried doing the above steps in different ways through the years. In a crockpot. Roasted in the oven. Grilled. I like this way the best. Once the eggplant is done – add to your assembly pan. Don’t worry if there are still firm pieces – it’ll spend a ton of time in the oven and cook through.

Add the bottle of sauce, stir, cover with foil and put into a 350 degree oven for atleast an hour and a half.

Use this time to work, mother, wife, clean the house, clean the car, or…if you’re me, have a cup of coffee and a piece of last night’s dessert (raspberry cobbler).

After about an hour and 1/2 – check your dish. Does it look like this? If yes, it’s done!

Add the cheese. I ended up using half cheddar/half colby jack. It’ll go back in the oven for about 5 minutes and then, done!

Like a caponata – eat this with some good, crusty bread. Add salt, pepper, and crushed red pepper to taste.

Now, if you come of my mother’s house and she says we’re having eggplant for dinner, you’ll be ready.

Yes, there’s the big stuff like money, kids, etc. All those things are stressful and cause all kinds of agita. But here’s what can really drive a marriage off the rails.

Let me set the stage.

I’m not a garden gal. I’ve tried to grow vegetables and herbs (yes even basil) and had no luck. I’ve tried to keep flowering plants alive but ended up burying most of them. But this summer I fell in love with a big, beautiful hydrangea bush in our back yard. I’m pretty sure it’s been there since we moved in but I’ve been busy and hadn’t noticed. For the last few weeks I’ve been watering it, weeding it, tending to it like crazy. And it’s been beautiful relationship. I love it and take care it and in return, it gives me big, colorful blooms that I can use in the house.

Then, last week, I had to go into New York City for the day. When I came back I noticed all our shrubs had been trimmed and cleaned up. Four years ago my husband found this dude, Edgar, who comes in every week in the summer to do our lawn. Edgar and his crew usually make quick work of things that we just can’t get to. Awesome right?

Wrong.

When I went to the back to water my lovely plant – this is what I found.

It had been butchered. Chopped. Deflowered.

Edgar!

I immediately called my husband and told him what went down.

“oh”, he said.

“oh no! You need to call him and tell him his crew killed my plant!”, I calmly but passionately stated.

So that night he called Edgar and said something along the lines of,”uh..hey Edgar…my wife is pissed because I think you guys trimmed too much from a bush in the back.” Then there was laughing and smirking and it ended with a,”it’s no big deal man….”

Let’s just say we had some “words” when he got off the phone.

He said I was treating Edgar like “the help” and I reminded him that he WAS the help. That’s what his role in our lives is. I’m not saying he’s a lesser human or anything – I’m saying he provides a service. If that service is f’d up – then he needs to own up to it.

Am I nuts? Don’t answer that.

Back to my main point – if my marriage goes down, it won’t be because of an affair or because my husband doesn’t buy me jewelry or crap like that. It’ll be because he didn’t have a fight with Edgar.

Makes sense right?

Here’s the picture I’ll be looking at whenever I want to enjoy my hydrangea plant.